


worse than nicotine

by storyop



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, baekhyun is dumb, jeongguk is smarter (and cute), jongdae's a minor character but he's dead just a warning, they’re both martial artists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyop/pseuds/storyop
Summary: jeongguk is eager to prove himself and baekhyun just can't wait to quit.





	worse than nicotine

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a joke but :-) here we are
> 
> for jonghyun always

it comes as easily as breathing. 

a slight shift of the weight. hands up. keep your eyes on your opponent at all times. look for weaknesses. are they favoring their left leg? relying too much on offense? baekhyun’s better at this than at anything else he’s done. he can’t wait to quit. 

it’s over before it even starts; he ducks a punch aimed at his neck he sees coming from a mile away and retaliates with a swift jumping kick to his opponent’s head. third round, three points. he wins. 

the referee raises baekhyun’s arm in victory, hand like a vise around his wrist, and he licks the salty taste of sweat off his bottom lip. 

 

 

his hands are shaking a little when he lights the cigarette, slipping it between his teeth and taking a steady drag with his head leaned back against the lockers. it’s quieter in here, without the cheers and the grunts and the dull thuds of skin on protective gear, and his headache eases a little. 

“yet again, you did good out there,” yixing says from the entrance, nodding at the trophy sitting on the floor next to baekhyun. he snorts, breathing out a puff of smoke. “in taekwondo, no less.” 

“i can’t wait until this is all over,” he says, lazily rewrapping his wrist. he’d sprained it a couple days back when he’d gotten angry and hit the punching bag wrong, but the pain is barely noticeable and far from the worst he’s gotten. “i can’t believe i let you convince me to the enter the wmac tournament.” 

he mostly spends his time fighting in smaller tournaments, usually taekwondo or karate, because hapkido tournaments are rare and when they are done, restricted so much he can barely recognize it. he does exactly what he’s supposed to do — wins most, loses rarely. brings home the gold and the money.

but for the first time, the world martial arts consortium is hosting a mixed styles martial arts tournament, where participants with a variety of martial arts backgrounds can enter to prove their worth instead of the tourneys being limited within one specific style. it’s a perfect situation for baekhyun and kind of a big deal for anyone in his line and with as many trophies under his belt as him, but yixing had spent days working on getting him to agree to throw his name in.

“you’re too good to just disappear from the life,” yixing says quietly, not moving from his spot. his eyes are heavy with disappointment when they land on the cigarette between his fingers, but his friends have long since learned not to bother saying anything about it. “in fact, you’re too good to leave at all. you know this.”

“all that drive i had? it’s gone, coach,” he says, shrugging. “i’m not getting any younger, and i’m not  _ considering _ anymore. i’ve made up my mind. one last big trophy and then i’m out for good.” 

yixing is silent for several moments. “tomorrow, at the rec center downtown. cddc is hosting a dance showcase. be there if you have the time.” 

he’ll be there.

 

 

the wind picks up, leaving his hair a mess. he leans a little further over the side of the bridge, fingers reaching. for what he doesn’t know. there’s a pull on the hood of his sweatshirt, and he turns his head to see chanyeol, with his hands in his pockets and that famous megawatt smile on his face. 

“well if it isn’t  _ the _ byun baek,” chanyeol says, throwing an arm comfortably around baekhyun’s shoulders. he leans into his touch, smiling. 

“well, if it isn’t  _ the _ park loey.” baekhyun holds his hand up and chanyeol bumps their knuckles together. gently. “how’s the retired life treating you?”

“i still have a job,” chanyeol points out. “besides, you’re going to find out soon enough, aren’t you?” 

chanyeol’s nose is a little crooked from too many breaks, just one of the many small pieces of evidence that point to his history as a boxing champion. out of all his friends, chanyeol’s the one that gets him the most, because he’d been big, too, all the way up until he’d quit out of nowhere. there’d been a lot of factors that went into it, the biggest of them all do kyungsoo. speaking of. 

“how’s the married life, then?” baekhyun asks, keeping most of the bitterness out of his voice. 

chanyeol hums, arms resting on the railing. “kyungsoo’s pages deep in a new novel and he barely speaks to me.” there’s a small smile on his face. “he gets frustrated a lot. makes for a good fuck.”

“i said married life, not sex life,” baekhyun snaps, but there’s no heat in it. “i’m glad things are going well with the two of you. that rough patch was… rough.” 

“you know,” chanyeol says, raising an eyebrow at him, “i’m kinda glad it happened, though. without all of that shit the two of us went through i would’ve stayed on that path of slow self destruction i was on.” baekhyun nods a little. yeah, he gets it. “high school kids may be a pain in the ass, but it’s nothing like having soo mad at you.”

“because he cares,” baekhyun says. “you two have a romance fit for the movies.” 

“baekhyun,” chanyeol says. “you know i understand what you’re feeling, right? i’ve been through it.” there’s a  _ but _ clearly incoming, and baekhyun braces himself for it. 

just a year ago, there were posters of chanyeol — or king loey, as he’d been called — plastered on every vertical surface in the city. he looks like a completely different person now; gone are the red hair and the constant injures and the rash bravado that had sunk him deeper and deeper into a pit he’d barely escaped from. he and kyungsoo had fought nearly every day back then, because chanyeol had kept being irresponsible and pushing his body to the limit and kyungsoo had hated to see him wasting his life away like that. baekhyun had hated it, too, but he wasn’t much different. now chanyeol, tall and lanky and a lot smoother around the edges, is a computer science teacher at a local high school, and a smashing hit with his students. and baekhyun is as always envious. 

“but,” chanyeol says, “i’ve rarely seen someone with fighting so ingrained in them as it is in you. i’d be the last person to tell you not to quit. in fact, i’m happy you are. i just think you’ll be a little lost without it.” 

baekhyun stares out at the river, flowing thick and clear underneath them. they’re out in the middle, but if you go to the banks the water gets muddier, full of sticks and candy wrappers and other shit people have thrown in. 

the truth is, baekhyun’s not sure what he’s going to do when he quits. sure, he has a nice job at a corner bookstore where he can sit and read books on ancient mythologies for hours, but a lot of his money comes from winning smaller tournaments. and honestly, he’s not sure he could spend his life in that store. for a second he considers going back to school, but dismisses the thought quickly. not for him. 

“i’ll cross that bridge when i come to it,” he replies, fingers twitching for a cigarette. 

chanyeol just shrugs. “i have faith in you, man. besides, gotta win that big trophy first, right?” 

he grins a little. “hey, yeol, do people still ask you for your autograph?”

“oh man,” chanyeol crows. “i got it nonstop the first day of school. they made me show off my tats, too — wipe that smirk off your ugly mug, baek, not the one on my chest.” there’s a giant phoenix emblazoned on chanyeol’s torso; it’s over the top and kind of sexy. it suits him. “soo and i were on a date once and we got interrupted by some reporter who wanted to write a ‘life after fame’ type story.” 

baekhyun whistles. “must not have ended well for him.” 

chanyeol’s grin is wicked. “whatever damage i can do with my fists, soo can do a thousand times worse with his words. i doubt we’ll be bothered again.” he claps baekhyun on the shoulder, voice softening. “come visit the two of us sometime, okay? we miss you. ever since… yeah. we miss you.” 

“enjoy your life of domestic bliss,” baekhyun says, offering chanyeol another fist bump. “say hi to the babies for me. maybe get a couple human ones soon.” 

“good luck, champion,” chanyeol says solemnly. there’s next to nothing of “king loey” left in him. baekhyun’s chest feels funny.

“i’ll text you!” baekhyun says to chanyeol’s back. “or maybe not. i’ll just drop by whenever.” 

“you’re welcome whenever, bud,” chanyeol says. he looks at him like he can see right into his heart. “i’m serious.” 

baekhyun turns back to the water, watches the sun glint of the surface in an almost painful way. “yeah,” he says, throat a little dry. “yeah.” when he looks back, chanyeol is gone. 

 

 

there’s too many people here. it used to be that he could handle crowds with ease, often finding himself right in the middle of the spotlight, white hot and laser focused. he loved it. now it just makes him sick, the press of bodies bringing him right back to the feeling of being mid-fight, mat underneath and ceiling lights overhead. 

yixing is waiting for him with an arm held loosely around hoseok’s shoulders, the two of them dressed similarly in loose shirts and sweatpants. there’s a cddc emblazoned on each of their chests, standing for carpe diem dance crew, the thick golden lettering peeling slightly. yixing’s got his hair tied back in a ponytail, hoseok’s got his pushed back, and they look both nothing alike and exactly the same. 

baekhyun watches the dancers scurry around them with half-lidded eyes, hands shoved in the pockets of his skinny jeans. “you know,” he says conversationally, “sometimes i wish i’d picked up dancing as a kid, instead of hapkido.” hapkido had led to aikido, then taekwondo, even some dabbling in karate and judo. he’d never been satisfied.

yixing is giving him that sharp look again. “i’m sure you would’ve been good at this, too.” 

“yeah,” baekhyun says, running his tongue over his teeth. “i’m sure.” 

the showcase is divided into two distinct halves, one classical and one hip hop. yixing and hoseok fall into the latter category, and he hangs by them and watches the classical dancers go for a spin. literally. he spots jimin, who shows up at his dojang sometimes to watch him train. he’s quiet but he has the most intense eyes, and although he’s never spoken to baekhyun, he likes him. there’s jongin, too, a taller guy who baekhyun has noticed is always wearing a gold locket around his neck, but other than the two of them he doesn’t recognize anyone here. 

“yixing’s right,” hoseok says out of nowhere. his eyes are still trained on the dancers; he’s always quiet when he watches, focused on analyzing even unconsciously. “i can see you fitting right in here.” 

dragging the toe of his sneaker over the pavement, baekhyun doesn’t bother with a response. they’re outside, a makeshift stage set up with spotlights dotted around it, the bright artificiality of the lights drowning out the stars gradually appearing above them. hoseok smells like aftershave and sweat. it’s nice.

“our turn,” yixing says, speaking from hoseok’s other side. his shirt is a little big on him, slipping off one shoulder, his collarbones exposed. hoseok’s eyes change from that detached assessment when he looks at yixing. “let’s go.” 

he reaches into his pocket for a sucker, unwrapping it slowly as yixing and hoseok make their way to the stage. his mouth needs something to do. 

it’s gotten cooler, and he pulls the zipper up on his jacket, eyes fixed on the stage. the music starts, low and driven, baekhyun humming along when he recognizes the song. yixing and hoseok are the only two people on stage right now, moving with a synchronization that can only come from hours upon hours of practice. as he watches, the rest of the dancers file on, and he tells his mind to stop overthinking every damn thing for once and just enjoy.

baekhyun hands yixing and hoseok two water bottles when they run off stage to a chorus of cheers. they sip slowly, hoseok dumping half the bottle over his head with a somewhat maniacal grin on his face. yixing just laughs at him. 

“it’s never too late to learn,” yixing tells him, screwing the cap of the bottle back on. his fingers are long and thin, more like baekhyun’s than hoseok’s. “if this is what you want to do… after… then we’ll teach you.”

“aren’t you tired of me yet?” baekhyun says. there’s a smile on his face but not in his words. 

yixing doesn’t get the chance to answer, hoseok nudging a newcomer to their little circle forward. he’s taller than baekhyun, broad shoulders and narrow hips under a plain white shirt. there’s a beanie shoved on his head and he looks a little shy and baekhyun thinks,  _ cute _ . 

“this is jeongguk,” hoseok says, and jeongguk holds out a hand for yixing and baekhyun to shake. jeongguk’s palms are rough the way baekhyun’s are. “moved here a little over a week ago… he’s like you, baekhyun! martial artist.

baekhyun can tell. “nice to meet you, jeongguk,” he says, mouth full of sucker. “i’m baekhyun.” jeongguk has big eyes. dark. pretty. his bangs keep falling into them. 

“he’s friends with jimin,” he hears hoseok says, but he’s too busy looking at jeongguk. he can’t help it; he sizes him up, watches how he won’t really meet baekhyun’s eyes but stands comfortably, weight evenly distributed on his feet and looking ready to drop into a ready stance at a moment’s notice. his body is all lean muscle. just like baekhyun. 

he pops the sucker from his mouth. “friends with jimin, huh?” he flashes back to the way jimin studies him from the sidelines during his tournaments and smiles. jeongguk’s a smart kid. “you’re fighting in the wmac tournament, aren’t you?” 

jeongguk gives him a close mouthed smile. “so are you.”

“so am i,” he agrees. jeongguk watches his tongue close back over the sucker. 

hoseok slings his arm around his shoulders, saying they’re all going to the club to celebrate together. baekhyun tries to beg off, but before he knows it he’s following hoseok’s ugly van through the streets, hands tight on the steering wheel. he hates driving. took him years before he could sit behind the wheel without having a panic attack. the streetlights pass him in bright flashes and celine dion is playing on the radio and baekhyun feels a little detached from it all. 

he gets a headache the moment he steps foot inside the building, his brain rattling around his head to the beat of the music. he takes about three sips of the drink yixing shoves into his hand before heading outside. the cigarette takes four tries to light. 

jeongguk finds him standing there watching people file into the building. 

“those things will kill you,” he says, nodding his head slightly at baekhyun’s mouth. 

“we’re all gonna die anyway,” baekhyun says flatly. he blows out a cloud of smoke, watches it rise. 

“so you want death by lung cancer?” there’s a small smile on jeongguk’s face. baekhyun can’t decide if he likes it or not. “glorious.” baekhyun stares at him. they’ve known each other for hours and it’s like jeongguk can already read him better than chanyeol. 

jeongguk mimics his stance, shoulders slouched and weight resting on one leg. “dancing is a lot like martial arts, don’t you think?” 

“have you heard of capoeira?” jeongguk shakes his head. “it’s afro-brazilian. combines dancing and music with fighting, lot of focus on the lower body, that kinda thing. started off as street fighting, so they use a lot of knives and shit as weapons. took a class once.” he inhales, the bitter taste of chemicals lining his mouth. “it was hard, but fun. too much fun, probably.” 

“it’s okay for you to enjoy this,” jeongguk says quietly. baekhyun notices that two of his knuckles are split open. 

he honestly thought he’d gotten tired of being looked at, but he likes the feeling of jeongguk’s eyes on him. “are you trying to convince me or yourself, babe?” from the entrance, there’s a loud burst of raucous laughter. 

jeongguk turns to leave, then pauses. “i know the bartender. ask for what jeongguk recommended; it’s good.” 

“you don’t look old enough to drink,” baekhyun replies, and jeongguk disappears with a little laugh. 

baekhyun puts the cigarette out. 

 

 

he drives jeongguk back to his apartment, fucks him slow with his fingers in jeongguk’s pretty mouth. learns jeongguk’s a whiner. learns he leaves quick, with hardly a trace of his presence left behind. he’s left alone to watch reruns of cartoons on his ratty couch, legs slung over the side. it’s two am but he decides he wants ramen noodles. on an impulse, he calls chanyeol, tv still flickering in the background.

“hey,” chanyeol answers, sounding tired. “everything okay?” 

“i don’t know,” baekhyun answers honestly, staring down at the stove. “sorry for bothering you.” 

“actually, your timing’s pretty fantastic,” chanyeol says. “toben ate something funny and was sick all day; we just put him to bed. i could use the distraction.” his voice comes even rougher through the phone. “what are you doing up at two in the morning?” 

“making ramen,” baekhyun says and chanyeol lets out a small noise.

“aren’t you supposed to be training?” 

“yeah.” he stirs the noodles, leaning over to turn the heat off. he hates his stove. it barely works. but it’s enough to get him through. “making questionable life choices that i will definitely regret the next time i wake up is a big part of the regimen.” 

chanyeol’s laugh brings him back to his school days, when the two of them — and jongdae — had been attached at the hip and ready to take the world by storm. now jongdae’s dead and baekhyun’s in the process of dying. 

“don’t i know it,” chanyeol agrees. “don’t stay up too late.” 

“i don’t want to eat this,” baekhyun realizes, settling back on his heels. he sighs, rubbing at his forehead. he needs a haircut. 

“then don’t,” chanyeol says. “take care of yourself, byun baek.” there’s a soft murmur from behind him, and baekhyun can tell chanyeol is smiling when he says, “soo’s out of the shower. go to sleep, yeah? love you.”

it’s only after he hangs up that he says he loves him back. 

 

 

the bookstore baekhyun works at is just big enough to not be suffocating. it’s decorated in blues and browns and whites, like junmyeon had decided he wanted to bring the ocean to their land-locked city, like he’s yearning for something he never had — at least as far as baekhyun knows. but then again, so is he. 

he’s sitting behind the corner reading about andromeda and perseus when the bell above the door jingles and he looks up to see one of their regular customers, a kim namjoon, enter. namjoon is as usual wearing his glasses and looking a little bit like he fell asleep reading. 

he likes namjoon. namjoon entertains him when he gets a bit too excited about mythology and starts telling him things he already knows. namjoon doesn’t ask him how his training is going or how he got his latest injury and pretend to care while he describes the feeling of knuckles against cheek, head snapping back. namjoon tells him stories about college so he can live vicariously through him and pretend he would’ve fit in there. 

“ahh, the tale of princess andromeda,” namjoon says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “one of which that gave rise to the idea of princesses being captured by dragons and the dashing prince to save them.” he sets three books down carefully on the counter, digging through his wallet. “isn’t it crazy how the same stuff humans were coming up with years ago is reflected in the stuff we’re coming up with today?” 

sometimes baekhyun wonders if he has a crush on namjoon’s brain. “that was a lot of intellectual shit, o great college professor,” baekhyun says, smiling. he rings namjoon up. “enjoy.” he entertains the thought of being a teacher, too. chanyeol likes it, namjoon likes it, why not him? he’d teach something boring, like history, and consider it a personal challenge to make it as interesting as possible. 

junmyeon pulls up a chair beside him during a five minute break when there are no customers, offering baekhyun a handful of peanuts. he takes a couple, chewing slowly and thinking about his training routine for the night. there’s about five weeks left until the tournament stuff, which means he’s graduated to technical practice. that’s mostly free sparring, for him, since his biggest area of expertise is hapkido and there are no forms. 

“you look like you’re overthinking stuff again,” junmyeon tells him. 

he takes another peanut. “you know what you do when you’re thinking?” he says. “your eyebrows draw together and you pout like being cute is going to solve whatever problem you have.” junmyeon is kind, almost unbearably so. he often entertains the thought of needling him until he finally gets angry, but he likes him too much to do that. “what?” 

“nothing,” junmyeon says, shaking his head. “you’re just a very interesting person.” 

the bell chimes again. “looks like break’s over. back to work, boss,” baekhyun says. “have fun with your grown up things.” junmyeon’s usually in the back doing the dirty work, like finances, or inventory. a lot of their profit comes from the mugs and the t-shirts; people just don’t read the way they used to. junmyeon also manages their twitter account, updating their meager number of followers with news about releases and author visits and the occasional terrible book-related pun that baekhyun always laughs at despite himself. 

drumming his fingers on the counter, baekhyun once again considers working at the bookstore full-time. it’s nice, not too many people, and junmyeon lets him get away with a lot. he could spend his life here, if he tried hard enough. 

_ if _ he tried hard enough. 

 

 

it’s three in the morning when he gets a call from an unknown number. he’s just gotten out of the shower, hair dripping onto his pillowcase, and whatever he tries he can’t get to sleep. 

“hey.” it’s jeongguk. he sounds about as wide awake as baekhyun feels. 

“how’d you get my number, babe?” baekhyun says, scratching his cheek. he should be exhausted, after all that training, but his brain is doing that annoying thing where it’s running faster than a maglev. 

there’s a pause. baekhyun can hear the faint sounds of birds in the background. “hoseok.” 

“where are you?” he rolls over, stares at his night light. it’s shaped like a star. had been a present from jongdae, some bullshit about how baekhyun shone as bright as the stars in the sky or something. 

“park,” jeongguk says. that explains why his voice keeps fading in and out. “wanna come?” 

he’s up in a flash, swinging his feet over the side of his bed. he doesn’t want to think about jongdae. not now, not ever. “how’d you know i couldn’t sleep tonight?” 

jeongguk hangs up. 

 

 

leaves crunching underfoot, baekhyun makes his way past the swing sets toward the tree line where jeongguk is standing, head tilted back and eyes fixed on the sky above. it’s cold, and he hunches into his hoodie, one hand playing with its strings. it’s an ugly color, neon green, and that’s exactly why he’d bought it. 

“there's a trail here,” jeongguk says, not looking at him, “go a little further up, then take a sharp right, and you’ll come to this little overhang where you can watch the trains go by underneath. calming if you don’t worry the entire time about tipping over and falling to your death.”

“i never worry,” baekhyun says. a blatant lie. 

jeongguk’s eyes crinkle. “come?” he holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers, and with a snort baekhyun takes it, letting him lead him through the trees. jeongguk’s hand is large, warm, and baekhyun’s fingers slot neatly between his. 

they veer off the trail a while down, the terrain getting rougher beneath their footsteps. jeongguk helps him over a fallen tree trunk, saying yes, this is definitely illegal. baekhyun doesn’t care as long as they don’t get caught. 

the overhang is a large piece of concrete embedded into the side of what is essentially a small cliff, under which the train track leads. it’s quiet now, almost in an ominous way. baekhyun settles down, feeling the chill of the stone through his sweatpants, and scoots over closer to jeongguk’s warmth. 

“i brought cheetos,” baekhyun says, pulling a small and terribly crushed bag out of his pocket. thankfully, when he rips it open most of them are intact. “flaming hot.” 

jeongguk eyes him suspiciously. “is this your way of making sure i’m unfit for the competition?” 

“i don’t need to do that to win, babe,” baekhyun says, popping a handful of cheetos in his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. jeongguk’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he leans over to slide a few more out of the bag. “i swear these things consist of more and more air every year.” it’s cute, the way jeongguk shoves food in his mouth. everything about jeongguk is cute, from his big eyes to his big nose to his big teeth. he gives him the rest of the bag. 

mouth full of cheetos, jeongguk leans forward, hands braced on the concrete beneath him. “train!” he says excitedly. baekhyun lights a cigarette. 

even from above, they can feel the vibrations of the approaching train, everything shaking slightly. it’s just a touch terrifying. without even meaning to, baekhyun reaches over to hook a pinky into jeongguk’s collar, as though that would do anything if he fell. 

“i barely even know you,” baekhyun muses as the train thunders by. jeongguk glances over at him, grinning. 

“well for one,” he says, reaching over to tug the cigarette slowly from between baekhyun’s teeth, “i hate smoking.” baekhyun lets him do it, lets him toss it over the edge, lets him lean in to kiss the corner of baekhyun’s mouth. “how do you want to do this?” he can hear the laugh in jeongguk’s voice. “twenty questions?” 

he only has to tilt his head a little to capture jeongguk’s mouth. they kiss for what feels like forever, cheeto dust staining their fingers and the birds providing a symphony of noises around them. jeongguk tastes like strawberries. 

“i’ll start.” baekhyun runs a thumb over his lips, tender to the touch. “what’s your favorite movie?” 

“iron man,” jeongguk says. 

“one, two, or three?” 

he almost looks offended. “the first one, of course. iron man two was pretty… bad.” his head tilts a little. “why don’t you leave?” 

baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “what do you mean?” 

“like,” jeongguk says, leaning back on his hands, “what’s keeping you here? why don’t you go somewhere… grander?” 

“straight to the deep ones, huh?” baekhyun stares down at the tracks, empty once again. there’s nothing that indicates the train went by. “this has been my home forever.” he bites the inside of his cheek, voice dropping. “... and jongdae. jongdae’s here.” it’s the first time he’s spoken his name aloud in a while, and the worst part of all of it is how it doesn’t hurt as much as it did three years ago. 

jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow. “boyfriend?” he looks a little uncomfortable. 

“no,” baekhyun says, then laughs. “well, he could’ve been. maybe. if i had guts back then.” jeongguk is silent, waiting for him to gather his words. “he… three years ago, you remember that big storm? we got into a fight, it was… it was bad. i don’t even remember what it was about — but he was staying over at my place, and he left immediately after. crashed his car.” his tongue feels so heavy in his mouth. “i don’t usually talk about it. or think about it.” 

“do you feel responsible?” jeongguk asks quietly. 

“i don’t… feel anything,” baekhyun admits. he scratches at his wrist; his skin itches under the wrappings. “i don’t…” he sucks in a breath, for once speechless.

“i think you feel a lot more than you’d like to admit to yourself.” there’s no pity in jeongguk’s gaze, just a quiet sympathy. “next question?” 

“do you,” baekhyun says, “want to come home with me?”

 

 

jeongguk stays for longer and longer, falls asleep on his chest with baekhyun running his fingers through his hair. he’s cute when he sleeps and cute when he wakes up, all groggy eyed and needing a full two minutes to adjust to the fact that he’s not passed out anymore. he’s always pulling cigarettes from baekhyun’s mouth, replacing them with his own lips, but baekhyun barely smokes anymore. he has someone to watch those reruns with now. 

baekhyun doesn’t even realize he’s falling until he’s at the bottom looking up. 

jeongguk takes him to an amusement park, childishly excited. baekhyun isn’t the biggest fan of rollercoasters, but he can’t say no to the way jeongguk’s nose crinkles when he smiles, or when he grins so big all his teeth are on display and the corner of his mouth doesn’t move when he talks. 

he barely even notices the crush of bodies around them, hand curled around jeongguk’s arm as he drags him around the park. they eat funnel cake and slurp on icees and baekhyun kisses jeongguk a lot and jeongguk’s cheeks stay stained a soft pink. 

a giant heart shaped plushie catches his eye, but it’s hanging in the ring toss booth and no one wins that. jeongguk notices his eyes lingering. 

“i’ll get it for you,” he says immediately, arm going around baekhyun’s waist to pull him to the back of the line. it’s shorter than the other ones they’ve had to stand in.

“this is rigged,” baekhyun says, smiling. “don’t waste your money.” 

“it’s not a waste if it’s on you,” jeongguk coos, only half joking, and to baekhyun’s horror he turns bright red. laughing, jeongguk bumps his hip onto baekhyun’s. the kiss jeongguk presses to his cheek only worsens his blush. “seriously. i don’t lose.” 

he wasn’t kidding. baekhyun stands back and watches (admires) as jeongguk beats the system on his first try, turning around to present baekhyun with the heart, beaming. his top lip is slightly pulled up and he looks really fucking proud of himself and baekhyun’s stomach drops into his ass.

there must’ve been a funny look on his face, because the corner of jeongguk’s mouth turns downward as he looks at baekhyun. “you okay? is something wrong?” 

“that depends,” baekhyun answers carefully. he takes the heart, hugging it to his chest. “but right now, i don’t think so.” 

they ride the ferris wheel, baekhyun crowding into jeongguk’s side more the higher they get. it’s just the two of them in the car, surprisingly enough, and when they reach the top, jeongguk says quietly, “i get why you want to quit, you know.” baekhyun looks at him, and he amends, “well, not exactly, but… some of it?” 

baekhyun doesn’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because jeongguk isn’t looking at him but out the glass side, brows furrowed as he speaks. “when i was seven, my parents divorced, right? pretty standard, whatever. i wasn’t too broken up about it, maybe because they’d been distant for as long as i’d ever known and i was too busy playing video games and planning pranks on my friends to care. but mama, she thought it would help if i had something productive to spend my time on, so she enrolled me in taekwondo classes. i was good at it right away like i usually am with things” — there’s nothing of him bragging in that sentence, just him stating a simple fact — “and more than that i loved it. started off doing it to please mama and ended up doing it to make her proud.” 

“and then?” the ferris wheel stutters to a start again and instinctively baekhyun grabs for jeongguk’s hand. 

“and then she died,” jeongguk says, looking down at their intertwined fingers and smiling a little sadly. “cancer. nasty business; i had to watch her waste away in front of me. kept winning trophies but it didn’t keep her alive, you know?” 

baekhyun grabs for a piece of gum with one hand, the other gripping jeongguk’s hand in a death grip. “yeah,” he says, blowing a bubble. “yeah.” 

“and then this” — jeongguk reaches over to pop the bubble with his pinky — “turned into my whole life. i didn’t know how to live without it.” 

“did things change for you?” baekhyun asks. 

“i broke my arm,” jeongguk answers. “out of commission for a while. had to figure out something to do that didn’t involve punching people. so i sang.”

“sang,” baekhyun repeats.

“yeah,” jeongguk says. “yeah, and now when i’m stressed or really annoyed i don’t force my body to do things i’m not ready for, things that’ll destroy it before its time. i still love it. more than anything else i’ve done. but it doesn’t take me over the way i let it do before.” 

they both fall silent. the ferris wheel is going back up, and by now the sky is grayish, mostly cloudless. 

“hey,” baekhyun says suddenly. “i like you.” 

jeongguk’s ears turn pink. “i like you too.” 

“like you a lot,” baekhyun murmurs, cupping his jaw in his hand. he lets jeongguk kiss him, this time, mouth soft and tasting of strawberries as usual. pulls back to pepper kisses all over jeongguk’s face — the corner of his eye, his nose, the little mole under his bottom lip. the ferris wheel climbs higher. 

 

 

the semi-finals are next, and jeongguk is one of the other three still left. baekhyun buys a pack of gum, strawberry flavored. he lets himself think of jongdae more often, breaks down a couple times in the middle of the night, but he thinks he’s healing better now. everything is happening faster than he likes but at the same time not fast enough. 

he takes chanyeol up on his offer to drop by at any time, and shows up in the middle of the afternoon as his and kyungsoo’s house. chanyeol opens the door for him, breaking out into a smile as soon as he notices that it’s baekhyun, and all of a sudden he kind of wants to cry. 

“soo’s in the study,” chanyeol says. “he’s been coming out a lot for ‘water breaks’ though, so he’ll probably be glad for the excuse to not do anything for a while. do you want a tour?” 

baekhyun winces a little at the reminder that he’s never been here, but nods. it’s a small house with a terribly domestic feel — chanyeol had been in the middle of loading the dishwasher, and there’s a throw blanket haphazardly slung over the back of the armchair in the living room, and there’s a whiteboard at the foot of the stairs that reads “we’re almost out of milk be sure to pick up some!! love you” in kyungsoo’s neat handwriting. baekhyun pauses at that as chanyeol slips into the study, stares a little, thinks inadvertently about jeongguk. 

kyungsoo looks the exact same as he did when baekhyun last saw him about six months ago. dark hair, dark eyebrows, dark gaze, but it brightens when he notices baekhyun. “hey,” he says, voice warm, and to baekhyun’s surprise he pulls him into a hug. baekhyun melts into it, chin on kyungsoo’s shoulder. he wants to stay forever. “we’ve missed you. are you doing okay?” 

“fine,” baekhyun says, stopping his eyes from watering with herculean effort. he steps back, watching as chanyeol immediately tucks kyungsoo into his side and kisses the top of his head. kyungsoo smiles up at him softly. “i’m sorry i couldn’t come by sooner.” 

kyungsoo waves his hand at him in dismissal. “make it up to us by making your visits more common.” he pushes his glasses up his nose in a way that reminds baekhyun suddenly of namjoon. “i made pasta. want some?” 

as dinner progresses, baekhyun allows himself to relax and enjoy the company of his old friends. it’s comfortable, almost too much so, because chanyeol is still the chanyeol that had hung around him in high school and kyungsoo is still the kyungsoo that had come to every single one of chanyeol’s matches to support him no matter how mad they were at each other. 

“it’s jongdae’s birthday tomorrow,” chanyeol says, and baekhyun freezes. he watches as that sadness creeps up into chanyeol’s eyes — he hadn’t been as close to jongdae as baekhyun had but still. it had been the three of them against the world, back then. “we’re going to leave flowers at the grave tomorrow. do you want to come with us, baek?” 

baekhyun takes a breath. “no.” chanyeol doesn’t look offended, just nods, and baekhyun makes up his mind. “i think… i think i need to go alone.” 

“okay,” chanyeol says gently. “whatever’s good for you.”

“hey,” baekhyun says suddenly. it’s a little too loud but he barrels on. “how did you know you were in love?” 

they both look surprised. “well,” chanyeol says, “not to be even more of a cheesy shit than i already am” — kyungsoo lets out a loud, undignified snort — “but the first time i broke my nose, soo fixed me up and he was scoldin’ me the entire time but as soon as he was done he kissed me dizzy and said i did a good job out there and i just knew. you just kinda know.” he grins. “why? you in love?” 

“yes,” baekhyun says. “yes i am.”

 

 

tulips had been jongdae’s favorite flowers, for whatever reason. orange ones, especially. he leaves three of them on jongdae’s grave, three for him and baekhyun and chanyeol, three for the number of times baekhyun had kissed him and chickened out of asking him to be his boyfriend, three for the number of years he’d tried to push every memory of jongdae out of his mind. 

he sits cross-legged on the ground in front of the tombstone, chin propped in his hands. “hey,” he says, immediately feeling stupid. but he doesn’t stop. “i was in love with you, you know that? both of us were idiots. what were you thinking, that night? you know we would’ve made up in an hour tops, anyway. what exactly were you trying to prove?” he chews at his lower lip. “i think i’ve gotten a bit smarter, since. but… the truth is, i don’t know what i’m doing. everyone thinks my mind’s made up, and it is, but sometimes i have doubts because, like, what the hell am i gonna do with myself? i wish you were here. not to give me answers, but maybe to yell at me to get my head on straight and figure it out once and for all. you were always good at that.” 

he tells jongdae about every little thing he’s done for the past three years, staying there for hours, talking until his voice is hoarse. he tells jongdae about jeongguk, how he always has to buy extra milk because jeongguk always dips everything in it — including apple slices, which is frankly disgusting — how he zones out sometimes thinking about something and gets this really weird look on his face, how he has iron man socks even though he’s a grown man. he tells jongdae about what it’s like to be in love with someone that isn’t him. 

“i’m sorry,” baekhyun finishes, tears running freely down his cheeks. “for a lot of things, but mainly for being an asshole and never coming to see you. i thought that was my way of dealing with it but it was just me avoiding a problem and thinking it would go away and that’s not something that ever works, is it?” he laughs without humor, standing. his joints creak. “i love you. i’ll see you again.” 

he walks away, not looking back, feeling a hundred times freer.

 

 

even though he’s seen it coming from a mile away, there’s still an odd mixture of feelings in his stomach when yixing confirms that jeongguk’s going to be his opponent in the final match. 

“he’s just a kid,” he tells yixing dismissively, knowing full well he’s anything but. 

“how many times do you think he’s heard those exact words?” baekhyun knows how many times; jeongguk had told him that’s all he’d gotten from the second he’d entered the tournament. “he made it all the way to the finals.” yixing leans back, eyes sharp as he studies baekhyun, who’s chewing on a piece of strawberry gum. “he kind of reminds me of you, but the you from back then.” 

baekhyun clicks his tongue. “i won’t lose. not to him.” 

“do you not think he’ll end up like you?” yixing asks. 

“no,” baekhyun says simply. “i know he won’t.” 

yixing is silent. then — “you don’t smoke anymore. at least not that i’ve seen you.” 

baekhyun blows a bright pink bubble. “maybe,” he muses, “i’ve just traded one addiction for another.” 

 

 

round one. baekhyun stretches his wrists out, his injured one finally healed, cracks his knuckles. jeongguk is bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling at him, and baekhyun smiles back. he looks like an excited child again, but he fills out his dobok well and his gaze is already assessing baekhyun for weaknesses.

as well as he knows jeongguk, jeongguk knows him. this will be a difficult fight. 

but one he’ll win. 

he lets jeongguk take the offensive the first round. his taekwondo background shines through; jeongguk seems to be especially fond of spinning kicks. baekhyun doesn't blame him. they’re fun. he sees the first signs of jeongguk tiring and goes in for a headlock. fails. they dance around each other, both grinning wildly, hyped up on adrenaline and the eyes on them.

jeongguk slips up first, more tired than baekhyun is, and he takes the first round, helping jeongguk back up to his feet. “you’re good,” he says, teeth bared, “but i’m better.”

second round. jeongguk is smarter this time, and he practically throws baekhyun over his shoulder. baekhyun slams into the ground painfully and wonders for half a second of the possibility of him popping a boner in front of everyone in this damn room. 

“don’t you dare let me win,” they say at the same time. jeongguk meets his gaze straight on. baekhyun licks his bottom lip. as if. 

third round. if you ask baekhyun later, he’ll remember none of it, nothing but the sweat beading on his temple and the look in jeongguk’s eyes and knowledge that this, this is his last shot, his final moment. he’s not going down with a fight because he’s not going down at all. 

jeongguk’s knuckles graze his cheek, but that’s all the contact baekhyun allows him to initiate. there’s a  _ reason _ no one wants him to leave, there’s a  _ reason _ all he’s done for the past decade and over is win win win. jeongguk has drive, he has a hell of a lot of determination, but he just doesn’t have the experience baekhyun does on top of those things. 

baekhyun takes the third. 

they try and press the trophy into his hands, but there is a much stronger pull yanking at baekhyun, and he doesn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat to stride forward and take jeongguk’s face in his. their mouths meet in a match more evenly matched than the one they just came out of and this time baekhyun knows he hasn’t won. but he doesn’t think he’s lost either. 

“i like you,” he says against jeongguk’s lips, ignoring the small gasps echoing around them.

“you said that already,” jeongguk murmurs, hands going up to thread through baekhyun’s hair. he needs a haircut again. 

“i like you,” baekhyun repeats, “but it’s not just that.” he pulls jeongguk flush against him, gripping his dobok tightly enough to leave his knuckles white. “i love you.” jeongguk’s eyes shutter. “i’m in love with you.” 

jeongguk kisses him so fiercely he lifts him clean off his feet, baekhyun laughing into his mouth. “i love you too,” he says, setting him down with his cheeks and ears flushed. “i love you too.” 

on second thought, maybe baekhyun did win. 

 

 

“hey there,” baekhyun greets jongdae’s grave, laying another three orange tulips down. three for the three best friends, three for the least number of times he tells jeongguk he loves him every day, three for the number of days it took for him to get his head out of his ass and figure out what he wanted to do. “chanyeol was right, you know — don’t tell him i said that, but he was right. martial arts is a really huge part of me, and i figured out a way to not give that up. i’m gonna be a teacher. gonna teach kids martial arts the way i was taught, except better. it’ll be good for me.” 

it won’t be hard for him; winning the wmac tournament had given him a boost in both recognition and money, and opening a dojang will be a piece of cake. he already has potential customers lined up. 

“also,” baekhyun says, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face, “i’m in love. it’s nice, even if he does hog the blankets when it’s cold.” he has so much time to know jeongguk even better, to fall deeper and deeper in love, and he’s not going to waste it. 

“no more competitions for me, dae,” he continues, “not unless i’m going to support my boyfriend.” boyfriend. “i think i’ll make a great cheerleader, don’t you?” 

“if i stop hogging the blankets, will you cheer louder?” jeongguk asks from beside him. baekhyun hip checks him, laughing softly. jeongguk grins at him, eyes all crinkled again, and baekhyun is so, so in love. 

“it’s a deal.” 

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'nicotine' by p!atd
> 
> fun fact: i took karate and got all the way up to an orange belt before i quit 
> 
> thank you lots for reading


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